


Here in Your Arms is Where I Feel at Home

by AudreyRose



Series: Barton and the Former Boy Wonder [2]
Category: Dark Knight Rises (2012), The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Fluff, John Blake is Dick Grayson, M/M, or at least he used to be
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-12
Updated: 2013-06-12
Packaged: 2017-12-14 18:54:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 614
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/840234
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AudreyRose/pseuds/AudreyRose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I thought you were supposed to be a spy."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Here in Your Arms is Where I Feel at Home

**Author's Note:**

> I decided a sequel was needed. So here it is.

John feels the blonde's eyes on him and a slight smirk tugs at his lips. He breathes out, melting into the couch slightly more before letting his eyes crack open. "I thought you were supposed to be a spy," he murmurs, stretching and back popping. Clint chuckles and moves towards him, straddling him on the obscenely comfortable couch.

"Mmm," he hums, leaning down to nuzzle at the slightly younger man's jaw. He thinks back to when they were both younger, how they would curl up with one another, whisper about their futures. Flashes of John before he was truly exposed to the evils of the world, some of which Clint himself had already experienced. "Remember when we were kids, Dick?" Clint kept his voice quiet as he settled against the lean brunette.

"Don't call me that," the slight annoyance was overruled by the grin on his lips. Sometimes he would think back, especially before he had walked into that damn coffee shop, wondered what had happened to the scrawny blonde archer he'd been so close with. Clint hummed against his throat as he settled against him.

The cop let his fingers trail up the archers side, causing him to squirm even closer which brought a smile to his lips. "Still ticklish?" John asked letting his hand drift up to rest on the blonde's shoulder. He was answered by a non-committal hum and lips on his jaw. "I missed this," he admits and he feels the other man smile against his skin.

" 'm sorry I neve-" John cuts him off by flipping them, a finger pressing against his lips. Clint's eyes widen in surprise for a moment before searching dark brown eyes questioningly. The brunette breathes out, his eyes lidding for a moment as he considers what to say, what he _should_ say. He still feels those sharp blue eyes watching him carefully, but Clint remains surprisingly silent beneath him until John decides on his words.

"You don't _need_ to apologize, you weren't there, couldn't have done anything," John had long come to terms with what happened to his family, what he had seen that night. He'd had nightmares, still sometimes they would cause him to jolt into wakefulness. "I... It made me realize, at least in part why you always seemed so angry," he murmured, a quiet sigh passing his lips. He felt Clint shift beneath him, leaned into the touch when a callused hand touched his cheek.

Clint watched John in silence, his thumb rubbing over his cheek. He knew the anger that he mentioned, it had fueled him for so long in his life. Anger at the world, his father, his brother, even himself. The doubt that, maybe, he was why nothing ever went right, that he didn't deserve to be happy. But in the end his will and drive for survival won out, the quiet voice that told him to fight. John settles on top of Clint, his head on his chest, they stay like that, the silence giving both of them time to think. Clint finds his fingers running through John's hair, scraping across his scalp soothingly. John watches him through lashes, breathing in his scent as he listens to his heartbeat. He wonders how much pain the other man has seen, how much could have been prevented.

A slight smile quirks at the corner of the archers lips, he shifts and presses a kiss to the brunette's forehead. John hums in contentment, slipping over slightly positioning himself between Clint's solidness and the plush back of the couch. John would never admit it but here, away from Gotham, pulled in close by Clint's strong arms, he felt surprisingly at home.


End file.
